


Rudyard Funn's Nearly Patented 'Do It Yourself Burial Machine'!

by thatsnomoon



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Humor, Humour, Just some shenanigans at funn funerals, Thievery, our favourite golden boy chapman! makes an appearance, rudyard has a nearly patented machine you know, rudyard you rude man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 02:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13847922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsnomoon/pseuds/thatsnomoon
Summary: Rudyard Funn, of Piffling Vale has designed what he thinks to be a great new contraption that will change the way funerals work. His acquiring of materials to build the prototype? Shady.





	Rudyard Funn's Nearly Patented 'Do It Yourself Burial Machine'!

**Author's Note:**

> honeslty i havent posted anything in a very long time so this is a bit of a warm up! hope you enjoy! i might be posting some rudyard/chapman and antigone/georgie stuff soon so :/ anyways, enjoy yourself!

 

“So, as you can see, you just –“ A creak, a grunt, and shaky panting, then, “Ah! There you go, Georgie! My brand new nearly patented ‘Do It Yourself Burial Machine’! Genius, if I do say so myself. Which I do. Genius.” Rudyard gestured grandly to the patchwork wooden contraption, which was sitting not so proudly on the damp grass behind Funn Funerals.

Georgie, wrapped up in a large coat and scarf shivered, and shook her head at Rudyard. “Sir, while I think it’s a great idea –“

“It’s not.” Antigone muttered from the kitchen window, scowling into her hot water.

“While I think it’s a great idea, there are a few issues I’d like to address. The first being, aren’t we a funeral home? Isn’t it our job to bury the body? And, where did you get the wood? We already used up all the wood in the house for the clown funerals, sir.”

As the wonkily nailed contraption lost a plank of wood, Rudyard cleared his throat. “Now now, Georgie, no need to address such frivolities. This machine will be a big hit!”

Before Rudyard could go into further detail about his ‘Do It Yourself Burial Machine’, a familiar voice called to the trio. “Hello Funns! And Georgie. How are you all this morning?” Eric Chapman cheerfully greeted them as he swung the squeaking gate closed behind him. A hiss of “ _Chapman!”_ could be heard from the smaller man, and Rudyard crossed his arms, his face twisting into a grimace reserved solely for his competition.

“Morning, Chapman.” Georgie called from under her scarf.

Antigone choked and fumbled in the window, closing it shut and hiding herself from view.

“Alright then. Anyway, I’m calling over this morning to check on my neighbours, but also enquire about something. This morning when I let myself into work, I noticed that all the furniture was gone? Just so … strange!” He laughed, rubbing his hands together to create warmth. “I’m wondering if something similar happened to you? I was thinking about calling Agatha Doyle …” His gaze fell to Rudyard’s nearly patented machine, which was losing more and more pieces of wood by the minute.

“Aha! Well! We’d know nothing about that, would we Georgie! It’s not like my best friend and accountant Madeleine and I _broke into your funeral home and stole the furniture because we ran out of wood,_ that’s ridiculous!” He turned Chapman around forcefully by his shoulders and moved him in the direction of the lopsided gate.

“Well you see – Your machine – The design, the leather bits hanging from it,” He tried to ask as he was being removed from the property by Rudyard, “It’s quite similar to one of the pieces I’m missing from Chapman’s! Are you sure – “

“ _Goodbye_ , Chapman!”


End file.
